


And Love, the Human Form Divine

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment in a dark hotel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Love, the Human Form Divine

**Author's Note:**

> This AU story found inspiration in a fabulous piece of art by the talented vamptastica. The title is from William Blake’s Songs of Innocence, ‘The Divine Image’.

He lays in the darkness and dreams of a time when his lover was by his side, fighting the good fight, and loving him as if there were nothing to fear. Pressing his face into the pillow, he imagines he can smell his lover’s scent; leather, cheap motel soap, and that spicy smell that was all his own. With a sigh he squeezes his eyes shut tightly the breeze from the A/C unit chilling his skin, the beads of moisture from the shower he took evaporating to leave a ripple of goose flesh along the curve of his spine except…

            Along his lower back, he suddenly feels a swath of warmth as if…

            _God help me_ , he thinks.

            _I already have_ , a voice whispered in his ear.

            Until that moment on the steps of the church he’d never told anyone he prayed every day, not even him, and the look of disbelief on his lover’s face had been so clear. Except in all the years he’s prayed, like tonight, hands folded loosely beneath his cheek, he’s never heard God speak back. God, Allah, whatever you might call that higher power, he believed would never speak to him at one point. According to all the religious zealots, he was a sinner of the highest nature. When his world began to crumble, he felt as if that higher power had abandoned him for his wicked ways, but now when he felt that he could not continue on the voice whispered to him, cadence gentle and loving.

            The warmth grew in intensity and he felt a weight, smooth and firm brush against his skin, and he held his breath. It was his mind, he reasoned. Six months alone on the road, and his need to forget had finally caught up with him. He was losing his mind he thought as the warmth then spread to his shoulder stretching out in long slender imprints as if a hand had settled there. He wanted to cry, weep as if he were an endless font of grief, but his eyes remained dry beneath bruised lids, the tears refusing to come. If this were a dream, he had no desire to have it end.

            _Why do you doubt me my child?_ , the voice whispers again.

            Warmth begins to spread over his naked skin from his right shoulder in a straight path to the small of his back where it spreads out as if another hand. He fears he’s lost all sense of reason. His lover is gone, swallowed by the darkness. He said his goodbyes over a pyre of golden flames, a fire he lit himself, but it seems so real. Then he hears it—a faint chuckle as familiar as his own reflection and his chest tightens.

            _Do you really think I’d leave you forever?_

            He wants to open his eyes and roll over, but at the same time, he fears facing yet another empty room among the many that he’s faced. That familiar spicy scent surrounds him, a mix of leather, and a hint of gun oil edging it as the mattress shifts and sways beneath him.

            “Promised, I’d never leave, man.”

            The voice was neither a whisper nor his imagination this time. He holds his breath for a moment and he feels a thumb caress his left shoulder blade in a familiar ritual of touch. Beneath that touch, his body relaxes and ever so slowly, he begins to drift away into sleep.

            “I don’t want to sleep,” he speaks up, voice fuzzy with months of exhaustion and loneliness.

            That familiar gruff voice replies, “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

            “Really?” he whispers feeling as if he’s five years old asking about Santa again.

            “Yeah, dude, really.”

            He sighs in contentment, snuggling deeper into his pillow, hands still clasp as if in prayer beneath his cheek. A few minutes pass and his breathing eases and the man next to him lifts his gaze to a misty shape hidden in the corner. He’d never believed as his lover did until now.

            “Thank you,” he whispers as the figure shifts and swirls.

            _Have faith my child. I would never leave the human embodiment of my angelic warriors lost nor in the bowels of Hell. You are my children and it matters not to me where you find earthly love._

            Before he can reply the warmth of golden light appears, caressing his newly formed skin, and as it fades away along with the figure he catches his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. In that reflection he swears, he sees halos of light surrounding both his head and his lover’s as well.Then there is nothing, but them, skin against skin, and his eyes glisten with tears he always found hard to shed before.

            “Love you,” his lover beneath him mumbles in sleep.

            He watches his reflection for a moment then whispers back, “Love you too, Sammy.”

 

~Finis~


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